


Pancho and Lefty

by aviciousunicycle



Category: NCIS
Genre: Anxiety, Assuming a happy reunion sometime after 17x1, F/M, Flashbacks, Inspired by Music, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 14:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aviciousunicycle/pseuds/aviciousunicycle
Summary: Anxiety continues to haunt Ziva even after she returns to her family. Comforting a troubled mind is second nature to Tony.





	Pancho and Lefty

**Author's Note:**

> Just a weird idea that keeps coming to me as I'm about to fall asleep.

"Ima!"  
Her breath catches in her throat. A weight settles on her chest. It feels as though she cannot fill her lungs.  
"She will kill you, Ziva."  
Her pulse feels hard. She feels her heart hammering within her breast. Feels her blood. Feels throbbing under her arms. Her fingers tingle as though spiderwebs are dancing across her skin. Her toes are numb.  
"Hey! Ziva! Stop!"  
Her stomach flips. She's so dizzy. She's going to be sick. Her gut lurches. She's going to vomit. She opens her eyes and searches the darkness. She doesn't remember where she is. All she hears is her blood rushing within her ears. All she feels is her body setting itself on edge. She needs to get out. She needs to escape. She's tied down by invisible rope. She can't move. Everything is frozen.  
Then she hears a voice.

* * *

"Hey, hey, hey. Shh. Shh. It's okay, it's okay, you're okay. I've got you. You're safe. We're all safe. It's okay, Zee."  
"T-tony?"  
"The one and only," he whispered against the side of her face.   
His arms held her firm enough for her to feel safely enclosed, but not so tight as to restrain her.  
"Just breathe with me, okay?" he instructed, voice low and calm, "In... two... three... four... out... two... three... four... in through the nose... out through the mouth... in, strong and steady... out, fluid and smooth..."  
He reached over with one arm to turn on the light on the side table, also flipping the switch that brought a small fan to life.  
"Okay. Come on. Moving air," he said, helping her to turn to face the fan and positioning himself behind her.  
"In... and out... and in," he continued instructing as he carded his fingers through her hair.  
It was at once so similar, yet so different from the thick, full curls he was used to brushing.

_"Alright. Can you make it to ten?" he asked, standing behind his daughter as she perched on the edge of her bed._  
_She nodded and began, "One, two, three, four, five... six.... seven, eight, nine, ten!"_  
_"Very good!" he smiled, picking up a hairbrush and beginning to tame her wild locks, "In Spanish?"_  
_ "Uno... dos, tres... quatro?"_  
_ Tony nodded._  
_ "Seis?"_  
_ "Not yet."_  
_ "Cinco! Cinco, seis... si-e-te, ocho... nu-e-ve, diez!"_  
_ "That's my smart girl! Now how about French?"_

Without thinking, he began to separate her long hair into equal strands.   
He began to hum as his hands worked from memory.

_"Un, deux, trois... q-... quatre, cinq, six, sept... huit, neuf, dix."_

Over, under, over.  
Over, under, over.  
Over, under, over.  
His hums led to the words of a song he had used many times to tame the restless mind of the only person in the world that he loved as much as the woman currently beside him.

**"Living on the road, my friend**  
**Was gonna keep you free and clean**  
**But now you wear your skin like iron  
** **Your breath, as hard as kerosene"**

_"Hebrew?"_  
_"_Aba_."_  
_ "_Tali_."_  
_ She sighed, but began, "Echad, shtaim, shalosh, arba... um..."_  
_ "H, h, h."_  
_ "Hamesh! Hamesh, shesh, sheva... shmone... tesha?... eser."_

**"Pancho needs your prayers, it's true**  
**But save a few for Lefty, too**  
** He only did what he had to do**  
** Now he's getting old."**

A hair tie sat on the nightstand. Perhaps a side effect of being the father of a little girl, the small elastic bands had infiltrated every part of his home, car, clothes...

_"Alright, Miss Smarty, spell 'dog'."_  
_"D-O-G!"_  
_"And how do you say it in French?"_  
_"Chien!"_  
_"Spanish?"_  
_"...Perro!"_  
_ "Hebrew?"_  
_ "Kelev!" she shouted, pointing at the well-loved plush sitting on her dresser._  
_ "How about 'cat'?"_  
_ "C-A-T!"_  
_ "Spanish?"_

He gently reached across her still form to take the tie from the bedside table.  
Carefully, he finished his work.

_"And 'dad'?"_  
_"D-A-D."_  
_"In French?"_  
_"Papa."_  
_"Spanish?"_  
_"Padre."_  
_"Hebrew?"_  
_She giggled, "Aba."_  
_ "What?... Oh. Right."_  
_ Her laugh rang through the room._

**"A few gray federales say**  
**They could have had him any day**  
** They only let him go so long**  
** Out of kindness, I suppose"**

_"Here's a tough one- 'mom'."_   
_ "M-O-M."_   
_ "French?"_   
_ "Maman."_   
_ "Spanish?"_   
_ "Madre."_   
_ "Hebrew?"_   
_ "...Ima."_   
_ "Very good, baby girl," he squeezed her shoulders._   
_ He gave her now-completed braid a gentle tug and smiled, "Alright. Let's get going. Today awaits."_

He tugged gently on the plait, not as good as some of his past handiwork, but not bad considering the situation.  
She turned to face him, burying her face in his neck.  
He wrapped her in his arms, pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and whispered, "Welcome home, Ziva."

**Author's Note:**

> With respect to Townes Van Zandt, Willie Nelson, and Merle Haggard, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6lmWGkb3UQ) is actually the version that inspired me to write this entire fic.


End file.
